The Baal-Asha river was an artery for Amol-Kalit. It was the mightiest of the rivers, charting a lonely course through the vast deserts. Thin slivers of life clung to its banks, a band of green amidst the arid badlands and desert sands. The rivers were the lifeblood of the land.
Further from the rivers, it was a different story. Settlements clustered around natural springs and oases. They eked out subsistence farming through painstaking irrigation. Maresh was like half a hundred other locations. The fortified ksar was built on a rocky outcrop, the citadel overshadowing the town that had expanded beyond the original walls.
It was market day. There was a bustle of activity with a tent city having sprung up. Smaller settlements had sent delegations while nomadic tribes had arrived to trade their wares, sell livestock, and enjoy the fruits of civilisation. There were feuding clans present but the peace of the gathering prevailed, enforced by the watchful eyes of the amir's soldiers. Calls were shouted in a dozen tongues. Water fat river dwellers mingled with tacitrun tribals from the middle of the dune seas.
Takama gave a sigh of relief as they crested the slope. The merchant caravan was three weeks from Abrakán and was beginning to show signs of wear. She let herself have a precious drink of water, savouring the taste. They'd be able to refill their skins at the communal wells. A peddler mage could then purify it for a small charge.
She tapped her camel with her crop, urging it forward. A ragged cheer came from the merchants as they came over the rise. Maresh wasn't Alliria but three weeks of trudging through the desert made it look like paradise. The markets always brought in new sights. She wondered if she'd sign on with the caravan again. She was tempted to sell her sword to another and venture further afield.
Drums sounded to signal their arrival, alerting the fair to the presence of yet more traders. They'd find a patch to pitch their camp, then set about plying their wares.
Further from the rivers, it was a different story. Settlements clustered around natural springs and oases. They eked out subsistence farming through painstaking irrigation. Maresh was like half a hundred other locations. The fortified ksar was built on a rocky outcrop, the citadel overshadowing the town that had expanded beyond the original walls.
It was market day. There was a bustle of activity with a tent city having sprung up. Smaller settlements had sent delegations while nomadic tribes had arrived to trade their wares, sell livestock, and enjoy the fruits of civilisation. There were feuding clans present but the peace of the gathering prevailed, enforced by the watchful eyes of the amir's soldiers. Calls were shouted in a dozen tongues. Water fat river dwellers mingled with tacitrun tribals from the middle of the dune seas.
Takama gave a sigh of relief as they crested the slope. The merchant caravan was three weeks from Abrakán and was beginning to show signs of wear. She let herself have a precious drink of water, savouring the taste. They'd be able to refill their skins at the communal wells. A peddler mage could then purify it for a small charge.
She tapped her camel with her crop, urging it forward. A ragged cheer came from the merchants as they came over the rise. Maresh wasn't Alliria but three weeks of trudging through the desert made it look like paradise. The markets always brought in new sights. She wondered if she'd sign on with the caravan again. She was tempted to sell her sword to another and venture further afield.
Drums sounded to signal their arrival, alerting the fair to the presence of yet more traders. They'd find a patch to pitch their camp, then set about plying their wares.